


Possession

by 1MissMolly



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:57:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1MissMolly/pseuds/1MissMolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper is attacked at work and everything points to revenge against Sherlock, but who and why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

Possession

Chapter one

‘get to barts now’-GL (18-2-14) 0910

Sherlock Holmes looked down at the texted and smiled. Yes a new case. The tall lean consulting detective slid the mobile into his pocket as he grabbed to black coat. “John, we need to go. A new case.”

John and Mary Watson’s baby girl had been born six months earlier and presently was sitting comfortably in John’s lap, visiting her godfather, Sherlock. Mary was home getting much needed rest in the peace and quiet in an empty flat. Looking up at his best friend, John sighed and said, “Sherlock, we can’t take Sherry to a crime scene.”

“Why not?” the tall detective asked confused. A second notification of an incoming text sounded in Sherlock’s pocket. He looked at the screen.

‘get here now, no excuses’ –GL (18-2-14) 0913

“Must be important. Excellent, why can’t she go to a crime scene?”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t need to be exposed to crime scenes, you idiot.”

“Well, can you just . . .” he looked around his flat as if trying to find some missing evidence.

“No we will not leave her here alone.”

“Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock took off down the stairs to enlist the aid of his long suffering landlady.

Mrs. Hudson took the sleeping child from John’s lap, cooing as she did. John reluctantly relinquished his child to the elderly lady, but knowing the woman was more that capable of babysitting for a short while. “If you need anything call me. Don’t hesitate.”

“Don’t worry John, I’ll watch over the little dear.”

*****

Holmes and Watson quickly walked through the halls of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital and down to the basement and Pathology. Lestrade had texted them to meet him in the morgue. Sherlock’s long strides glided over the vinyl tiles as John quickened his steps to keep up.

They turned down the long hall that led to the double door for the autopsy suite, then slowed when they saw the blue and white caution tape cordoning off the morgue. They slowed for two steps, then Sherlock seemed to launch himself down the hall. Not running but definitely not walking either.

Donovan stood talking to a PC when Sherlock lifted the tape and crossed under. She looked up as he did so, and sneered at the man. Her usual insult of ‘freak’ was replaced with ‘bastard’ as they passed. John looking at her, she glared at the two of them, her eyes bitter and angry, then turned away. John sped up to catch up to Sherlock’s side.

Entering the morgue the two men stopped immediately. The room was in shambles. The counters had been swept clean, their contends thrown to the floor. A microscope was broken in three pieces, and broken glassware was everywhere. Three crime scene techs were dressed in blue jumpsuits and gloved, were busy examining various counters in the room. One was busy photographing.

Lestrade stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips staring down at the floor between the two stainless steel tables. Whatever he was looking at was blocked from Sherlock’s and John’s view.

“My God, what happened?” John asked astonished by the room. Lestrade looked up at the two men. His eyes flashed anger, his face was set as his jaws flexed. He walked around the metal table speaking to the two of them.

“Medical students came in this morning for Grand Rounds and found this. Called us immediately.” John noted the aggressive tone to the inspector’s voice. He practically growled at the two civilians. The inspector walked up to Sherlock and stared him straight in the eye. “What the hell are you up to now?”

“Nothing, you called me, remember?”

“Whatever the hell you’ve gotten her into you better tell me the truth. I want to know now!” Lestrade was getting louder now, almost shouting at Sherlock. The detective just looked away in a dismissive glance.

“I haven’t done a thing. Just ask Molly, we haven’t even spoken since she did my last drug screen months ago.”

The Detective Inspector’s came up with a right fist so hard and fast Sherlock didn’t even have time to notice it before it crashed into the side of his face. The tall man fell backwards, landing on his arse, hard.

“You bloody bastard!” Lestrade hissed out between clenched teeth. John quickly stepped between the DI and his crumpled friend.

“Greg, what’s happened? Where’s Molly?”

“She’s up in Casualty, she was attacked this morning.” The DI said turning to face John.

“Oh God, no!” John said as Sherlock got off the floor.

“How bad was she hurt?” Sherlock asked, his voice rising slightly in pitch.

“The SAN is with her now.” Lestrade answered, the volume of his voice dropping down to a soft whisper.

“SAN?” asked John.

“Sexual Assault nurse.” Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice flat and without emotion, but deep inside him he was becoming nauseous. Molly Hooper’s tiny frame and small features flashed across his mind. Her hesitant smile and large eyes. Sherlock tightened his fist to keep from shaking.

“She wasn’t . . .?” John couldn’t finish the question. He couldn’t say the words.

“We don’t know.” Lestrade answered. “She was beaten up pretty badly. Some one was very angry at her.”

Again Sherlock’s mind flashed to her face, her smooth white skin and fragile smile. Why would anyone want to harm so delicate a person? Anger flashed behind his silvery eyes.

“There is also this,” Lestrade said as he started to walk around the autopsy table. John and Sherlock followed him. On the floor in a pool of blood was the body of Molly’ co-worker. Muriel something, Sherlock thought as he looked down on the woman. Her throat had been cut and blood had poured down the front of her pale blue scrubs. Her hands were clenched and her eyes stared up at the three men.

“Oh God, Molly!” John turned and ran from the room. Sherlock stood beside Lestrade looking down and the dead woman. How many times had the two of them stood before looking at the dead? How many blood splattered crime scenes? Before, the other times, he was clear thinking, cold, detached. But not this time. There was a roar in his ears as his blood rushed through his head.

“Why did you blame me?” He asked almost in a whisper. Lestrade looked up at him and walked to the small office off the morgue suite. The techs used it as an office.

“We found her in here.” The room was also in disarray. Books pulled from shelves, a microscope in pieces on the floor, chairs tipped over. On the wall behind the desk, a message had been written with a broad flat marker.

**See what you made me do Sherlock**

Sherlock’s eyes surveyed the room taking in every detail till it came to her desk. Papers were scatted across the top of it. Under the harsh light of fluoresces, the blood was dark, burgundy color. It covered the papers and the wood. Before Lestrade could object, Sherlock turned and quickly raced to Casualty, to Molly.


	2. Chapter two

Possession

Chapter two

Sherlock burst through the double doors into Casualty, and into the bustle of the department. Tired looking doctors, hurrying nurses, indifferent orderlies. Family members wondering around with glazed looks of fear and doubt on their faces.

“Where is she?” Sherlock mind raced. His legs carried him through the maze of Casualty, without conscious thought. All that kept running through the detective’s mind was he had to find Molly, make sure she was alright. He didn’t want to examine why his stomach was queasy, or why his mouth was dry.

He heard John’s soft voice from behind one of the hideous curtains used to give a perceived privacy to the beds on the ward. A few short strides and he was standing in front of the sea green drape. He went to pull it back, when he hesitated, nausea rising again in this throat. Something new, a sensation he hadn’t felt in a very long time. A tingling across this skin, just like he felt in Dartmoor, after encountering the Hound, fear.

He shook his head and tried to clear it. Then spoke. “Molly?” His voice deep and rich, carrying through the background noise of the hospital ward. John pulled the curtain slightly opened and Sherlock ducked in.

Molly Hooper looked so small, dressed in a faded hospital gown, sitting legs akimbo in the hospital bed. The SAN gently teased debris from under Molly’s fingernails, catching the dirt and flakes of skin in a folded sheet of paper. Molly’s face was badly bruise. Her right cheek was already swollen and dark blue, her right eye puffy and red. Bruises and cuts went up both arms from the attacker’s grip. Dry blood cover one hand and her beautiful soft brown hair was matted to skull with blood and sweat.

John returned to Molly’s side and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Carefully he placed his arm around her shoulders as she shuttered with each breath. She refused to look at the nurse, but kept her gaze locked on the tiles of the floor.

“Molly,” Sherlock said in his softest voice.

She blinked her eyes and looked up at him. A weak smile graced her lips and Sherlock smiled back at her. His mind was screaming at him. Deduce, detect, find the bastard that did this now!

“Molly you’re safe now. We’ll take care of you. Nothing to worry about, you will stay with Mary and me okay?” John said softly to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said looking up into John’s face. Her voice so weak and frail. “I’m such a burden.”

“Don’t apologize Molly,” Sherlock said in his deep rich voice. “You’ll start babbling.” She glanced up at him wide eyed. A spark of the old Molly flashed across her face as she blushed. Sherlock took a breath. She was still in there, the shy morgue tech was still there. Sherlock smile broadened. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

The SAN nurse looked up at the two men. “Are you family?”

Before Molly could answer her, Sherlock spoke, “Yes, we are responsible for Miss. Hooper." Molly’s heart jumped at the statement.

“Good, we are done collecting evidence. Molly can be discharged in about an hour. I’m sure the police will want to interview her before she leaves, though.” The woman started gathering up various cellophane bags marked evidence laying around the cubicle. As she turned to leave, Sherlock reached out and touched her arm. The woman looked up into his face and quickly read his question. It was a common question but no one would ever say the words. “No she was not sexually assaulted.” A small reassuring smile crossed the woman’s face reaching up to her eyes. The first and only sign of compassion from the nurse.

A cooling wave of relief swept over Sherlock. Again something new, a sensation he didn’t want to analysis just yet. As the nurse left, she drew the curtain closed, leaving the three people cocooned in the cubicle. Sherlock stepped forward and moved around the bed so he could sit on the end and face Molly. She was unable to hold his gaze, so she looked back down at her hands.

“Tell me the truth, Molly, are you alright?” Sherlock asked. He noticed John tightening his grip on Molly’s shoulder.

“Not now Sherlock.” His friend admonished him.

“No, no it’s all right.” Molly stammered out. “I’m fine, well, I’ll be fine. Not like Muriel.”

Sherlock watched as Molly shattered and tears poured from her eyes. No sound escaped her mouth as she turned and wrapped her arms around the doctor. John whispered soft words to her as he gently rocked back and forth, letting her cry into his neck. John turned and glared at Sherlock.

The detective stood and moved around the cubicle, trying desperately to find something, anything to concentrate on.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, we won’t let him hurt you again.” John repeated over and over again into Molly’s hair.

Sherlock turned back to her, wanting to reassure her too. He took a step forward and reached out to gently pat her on the shoulder. The back of her hospital gown was open and her pale white skin of her back was visible. Dark red gashes were also there, just below her shoulder blades. Sherlock slowly moved the fabric back to see the damage better.

Cut into the smooth skin on the woman were two words. They burned into Sherlock’s psyche as he read them.

**SHE’S MINE**

Cold blind fury filled the consulting detective. Just as it had when he found his land lady beaten by the American bastard, but this time it was so much more intense.

“Molly,” the baritone voice carried in the small space, filling it. More assertive, authoritarian. Now his brain was working, now he was back. “Did he do this before or after he killed Muriel?”

Molly tensed under his voice. She straightened her back and pulled away from John.

“Before,” she said softly. She tried to stop crying.

“He attacked and cut you, then killed your co-worker?”

“Yes.”

“Did he leave as soon as he killed Muriel?”

“No, he came back in the office. I acted like I was dead so he’d leave me alone.” She took in a deep breath. “He did something behind my back, out of my sight.”

“He knew you were alive, he was leaving a message,” Sherlock said. “John, can you treat these cuts at home?”

John leaned forward and looked over her shoulder. He took in a sharp breath, then leaning back he said, “Yes, they’re not deep. Not a problem.”

“Then let’s go.” Sherlock removed his thick coat and started to put it around Molly’s shoulders.

“But the interview, Lestrade will want to talk to her,” John protested.

Sherlock carefully picked Molly up off the bed and set her feet on the tile floor.

“Can you stand?” he asked her. She nodded, looking up into his eyes. “Do you want to talk to the police now?”

“No” she whispered. He slipped his arm around the slim woman as she leaned into him.

“Then let’s go. Back to Baker Street.”

“But she hasn’t been discharged. There are papers that need to be signed.” John protested again.

“I told the nurse we were her family, we’re responsible. Why wait for some red tape to say so.” Molly looked up at him feeling the warmth of his coat around her. His scent in the fabric swimming up to her. Unconsciously, she leaned even closer into him.

“Let’s go,” she whispered up to him.

Sherlock looked down at her and smiled.

“Good girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a multi chapter ff I just don't know how long. Comments welcome.


	3. Chapter Three

Possession

Chapter Three

John had the taxi wait while he ran into the chemist to buy supplies for Molly’s injuries. Sherlock and Molly sat in the back as the driver kept glancing in the rearview mirror at her. After Sherlock noticed the third glance, he said.

“She was just released from the hospital.”

“Oh . . . Okay mate.”

“Eyes forward please.” His voice deep and threating. Molly scrounged down in the seat wishing to make herself invisible.

“I’m going to need some clothes,” she whispered.

Sherlock looked over at the petite woman who was enveloped in his coat. Her bare feet visible below the hem.

“I will go to your flat later,” he said dismissively as he pulled his mobile from his pocket.

Fear shot through Molly at the thought of Sherlock going through her flat, her clothes, her underwear! _‘Oh God’ she thought, ‘where did I leave my diary?’_ He would certainly read it if he found it without any compunction or regard. She knew that normal social restraints did not occur to him.

“No, really, you can take me home to my flat, I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Molly.” He leaned back in the seat reading a text when the mobile chimed that another text was coming in.

‘where is she’ –GL (18-2-14) 1030

Panic was rising in Molly. “I’m a health care professional you know. I can take care of myself.”

Sherlock quickly texted back. ‘with me, safe’ –SH (18-2-14) 1033

“We already decided, you are staying with me. You’ll sleep in my bed.”

“What!” she hissed out. She turned to him, hoping this was some bizarre joke. Sherlock noticed the eyes of the driver in the mirror again.

“Eyes forward.”

Molly’s mind was racing. She couldn’t sleep in his bed, he couldn’t go through her private things. “Your making this way bigger than it is.” She said trying not to squeak. In fact, to Molly it was over whelming. She was beginning to panic.

“Molly . . .” Sherlock started to say forcefully.

“Miss, is there somewhere you want me to take you?” The cabbie said looking at her reflection in the mirror.

“She’s fine, she’s with us.”

Molly pulse grew rapid as the two men glared at each other.

“Look mate . . .” the cabbie turned in his seat to face Sherlock.

Before the two men started to argue, John climbed back into the cab.

“I’ve got everything we need,” he said. “We’ll have you cleaned up and back to healthy in no time now.” He smiled at Molly and she felt relieved he was back in the car with her. John’s eyes moving back and forth among the three other people. He knew he missed something while he was in the chemist, but unsure what it was or what to say.

Sherlock’s mobile chimed again. ‘where?’-GL (18-3-14) 1038

“Please take us 221 Baker Street. The police will be meeting us there.” Sherlock said as he started texting back.

“Police?” Molly finally squeaked. John took her hand. Sherlock’s eyes picked up the movement, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Yes,” Sherlock answered, “after Lestrade goes to your flat to get your things.”

Molly’s shoulders collapsed as some tension bleed away. Better Greg picking through her clothes than Sherlock.

The taxi driver looked Molly straight in the face. “Miss, where do you want to go?”

“221 Baker Street please.” She said softly. John squeezed her hand tight, as Sherlock turned to look out the window thinking how much he disliked cabbies.


	4. Chapter Four

Possession

Chapter Four

Mary Watson stood in the kitchen of 221 B, making tea as John held his daughter, cooing to the child. John had called Mary asking her to meet them at Sherlock’s flat. The four had arrived at the same time. Mary took one look at Molly standing on the pavement barefoot, wearing Sherlock’s great big coat, the blonde woman wrapped her up in her arms and helped her up the stairs.

John stood close to his wife, occasionally reaching out and touching her hand or sleeve, reminding himself, that both the women he loved dearly, this wife and daughter were safe and with him. He closed his eyes and kissed Sherry’s soft hair again and then leaned over and kissed Mary’s cheek. She turned and gave him a reassuring smiled, gently squeezing his arm. Then she walked over and handed a cup of tea to Sherlock.

The front door of Baker Street slammed open and footsteps pounded up the stairs. Mary turned and was immediately on the defensive.

“What the hell were you thinking walking out hospital with her?!” Lestrade shouted halfway up the stairs. Sherlock remained sitting as Sherry shrieked in the kitchen at the noise. Mary left Sherlock’s side and went to her baby. John gently handed the crying child to his mother and together Mary and Sherry went up to John’s old room.

“Oh sorry, Mary,” Greg Lestrade said as the woman passed glaring at him.

He turned back to Sherlock, who was sitting and slowly plucking at the strings of his violin, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. Beyond the door was the sound of water running in the shower. Molly was in there trying desperately to clean her skin off.

“Why didn’t you wait for me? You knew I needed to interview her.”

“The nurse said we could leave.” Sherlock answered, John huffed and took his seat opposite Sherlock.

“Are you serious?” sarcasm dripped off every word. “You kidnapped her in a hospital gown. You made her walk out barefoot.”

Sherlock looked up at and Greg, smirking he said. “She is safer here that in hospital.”

The three men heard the water stop in the bathroom. John picked up the sack from the chemist and went and knocked softly on the bathroom door.

“Molly, may I come in?”

After a moment, the door opened and Sherlock got a quick glimpse of Molly standing with water dripping out of her wet hair. She was clutching the corner of towel that was wrapped around her tiny frame. Again, a strange new sensation, a rush of blood, Sherlock noted as he saw her briefly before John stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Okay, Sherlock, you’ve been around her now for an hour. Tell me what you have.” Greg said.

“What makes you think I have something for you?” Sherlock kept his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. _‘What was John doing? What was taking so long?’_ his mind wondered. He thought about how Molly looked when she opened the door, her pale shoulder above the wrapped towel was pink from the hot water. She had scrubbed herself, wanting to free from any trace of her attacker. Her big chocolate brown eyes red from crying. Sherlock had the sensation that he wanted to steal her away, hide her and shield her from the world. He couldn’t fathom where these sensations were coming from. It was annoying him. Almost as much as how long John seemed to be in the bathroom with her.

“Sherlock, who would have done this? Who hates you enough to hurt her this bad?” Sherlock was shaken back from his musing by Lestrade’s demanding voice.

“Not only hate me, but knowing to lay claim to her.” Greg stopped pacing and looked at Sherlock. “Her back. He carved ‘she’s mine’ in her back. But not deep enough to maim her but to scar. A permanent reminder. Someone who could pull off his attack on Molly then kill Muriel. He wanted my attention, but killed Muriel, who I barely know. Frantic to destroy the office and morgue, brutal enough to beat and cut her but controlled to not to cut too deep to kill Molly. He knew he left her alive to hurt me as well as her.”

“Who . . . what’s his name.”

“I don’t know. I don’t have enough information yet to make any conclusion.”

“Well get some bloody information. I can only think of one name and it scared the piss out me. The only person you two have in common like that is Moriarty.” Greg said in a half voice.

“Yes. I am quite aware of that.”

“Should I start expecting bombs exploding around London?”

“No, this time he has made it very personal.” Sherlock plucked another string on his violin.

“It wasn’t personal when he tapped into every television set in the city.”

“Just for show, no he has another plan, another game, with me.”

“Did Molly say it was Moriarty who did this to her?” Lestrade asked.

“Haven’t asked her.”

“Don’t you think we should?”

Just then the bathroom door opened and Molly came out. She was wearing Sherlock’s dark blue striped dressing gown. It almost touched the floor. John followed her out. He gently took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. John leaned in and placed a small chaste kiss to her forehead. He smiled down at Molly. Saying something too softly for Greg or Sherlock to hear. She smiled up at him and nodded. Sherlock plucked another string.

“Molly, can I speak to you now?” Greg asked as she slowly came into the sitting room. John stayed in the kitchen preparing something at the stove. Molly sat down on the couch and curled her legs under neither herself.

“Okay, I think I’m ready.”

Greg sat down beside her. “Okay, let’s start with yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“When did you come to work? Everything normal?”

“Yes same old, same old.” A half smile crossed her lips as she looked in the suntanned face of the detective inspector. His dark hazel eyes reassuring her as she talked.

“Did Muriel come in too?”

“Yes.”

“Any problems? Unwanted visitors? Phone calls?”

“No, nothing.”

“Did anything put you off? Anything seem different?” Lestrade asked gently.

“No, nothing.”

“Okay,” he leaned over and patted her hands. John came out of the kitchen and handed her a cup with something hot and steaming. Mary came down the steps and John pulled her into his arms.

“Sherry is sleeping.” She whispered to her husband.

“Okay, Molly, this morning, tell me about this morning.” Lestrade said.

“I came in early. We were going to have a full day and I had students for Grand Rounds.”

“Okay, just you or you and Muriel?”

“No, just me.” She looked down at her cup. The steam warmed her face, but she was feeling cold inside. “I was in my office and the lights were off in the autopsy suite and most of the morgue. I do that a lot. No reason to have all the lights on when I’m alone.” She stopped again and looked over at Sherlock. He turn his body towards her. “I was checking that coagulation report you wanted.” She looked back to Greg. “I was alone.”

“And?”

“I never even heard him. He was just there. Standing over me.” A tear slowly moved down her face. “I just looked up and he hit me.” She started shaking again. Mary took a step towards them, but Greg held his hand up, waving her back. John took Mary’s hand.

“You saw him before he hit you.”

Molly took a quick drink from the cup. “Yes,” she said after steading her nerves. “I think I saw him. Yes I did.”

“Did you know him?”

“No.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you didn’t know him?” Greg asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. I never saw him before.”

“Molly, you must have,” Sherlock said. She looked confused at Greg and Sherlock. She shook her head.

“You don’t think I would know anyone who would do this to me. To Muriel!” Her voice became high pitched.

“No, no, no,” Greg said patting her hands again, “Can you give me a description?”

“Taller than John not as tall as Sherlock. Medium build, red hair.”

“You never saw him before? Not at the hospital or elsewhere, store, shopping, eating out?”

“No, why?”

The three men looked at each other for a moment. Her eyes moved from one man to the next. Sherlock was the one who spoke. “Because of what he did to you. To your back.”

Molly sat up straight, “you mean what he wrote?”

“Yes,” answered Sherlock. “We were considering it to be Moriarty.” Molly coiled back in terror.

“No, he can’t be back!” she gasped out.

“I don’t believe he ever left.” Sherlock said.

Fear grabbed hold of Molly. She dropped the cup and quickly jumped up off the couch. She ran to the bathroom, slamming the door. Her vomiting could be heard throughout the small flat.

Mary ran to the bathroom door and stepped into the room without knocking.

“Good job, Sherlock,” John admonished his friend. “Anything else you want to torture her with?”

Sherlock closed his eyes. Again another new sensation, a new experience. It couldn’t be guilt?


	5. Chapter Five

Possession

Chapter Five

There were two big fights at 221 Baker Street in regards to sleeping arrangements. The first was between John Watson and his wife.

“If Moriarty is really back and targeting women in Sherlock’s life, we have to think of Sherry,” Mary said grasping John’s hands.

“Of course, that’s why I’m leaving with you two.”

“No, John, he needs you. He needs you to stay and help find this mad man. I can take Sherry and disappear. I know how. Just find Moriarty and let me know it is safe for our child.”

“Mary, I can’t. I need to be with you two. I need to keep you safe.” John pleaded.

“You can keep us safe by helping Sherlock find Moriarty. Please trust me.” Mary stared into her husband’s face. John’s eyes shined with unshed tears. He knew she was right, but couldn’t bring himself to agree to be separated from his wife and daughter. He thinned his mouth and shook his head no once. “Please John, you know it has to be this way. I’ll let you know where we are and talk to you every day. Just please do this.”

“How will you talk to me every day if you are in hiding?”

She pulled two simple mobile phones from her pocket. “These are burners. Disposable mobiles. I’ve programed each other’s number into them. You call me whenever you want. I will answer.”

“You already had the phones? You knew something like this was going to happen?”

“I knew you and Sherlock.”

He looked down at the mobile and took one from her hand. He pulled his wife into his arms and held her tight.

“I love you, Mary Morston Watson. Please be careful and take care of our child.” She couldn’t answer without crying. She nodded and held on tightly.

*****

After it was decided that John would be moving back into 221 for the duration, the next decision was where Molly was sleeping. She adamantly refused both the beds found in the flat and insisted on the couch. Stating it made more sense for her to sleep there since both men were too tall to be comfortable sleeping on it.

Then Sherlock suggested that he and Molly share his bed, Molly blushed wildly, backing away and John glared at him. Mrs. Hudson gave her patent ‘Oh Sherlock.’ The detective asked what was wrong with the simple solution to the problem when John shouted “YOU IDOIT!”

Molly assured them that she would be fine on the couch. Mrs. Hudson brought up spare bedding for her and by eleven o’clock, Molly was stretched out on the green couch and Sherlock was pacing in his bedroom.

He wanted to play his violin, to help him think, but he had left it in the sitting room. John had scolded him that Molly need to rest and not to be disturbed. Sherlock had wanted to sit up and think, but John insisted he retire and let Molly sleep in private. Sherlock need to think, he needed to find the mad man who would do this to Molly. He wanted his violin.

Quietly, he opened his door and walked slowly down the short hall to the sitting room. He looked around in the half light and saw Molly sitting on the couch. She jumped when she noticed him standing in the door way in his blue dressing gown.

"Oh, sorry Sherlock, did I wake you?"

"No," he said. "I wanted my violin."

Molly's eyes looked over at the instrument sitting next to the music stand.

"Would you play it for me?"

"What? Why?"

"I . . . ah . . . I sleep with music on at home. I don't like sleeping in a quiet room. It would help me to fall asleep."

Sherlock turned slightly away from her and stared off into the distance. It would help him too. Picking up his beloved violin, he gingerly placed it under his chin. He turned back to Molly and said, "Lay down and close your eyes."

She obeyed his request and he started off softly with the sound slowly rising from the instrument, filling the room. It was a composition he had written after the thought he had lost someone important to him. A person he had considered intelligent, beautiful and fascinating. Someone who was an equal. She had challenged Sherlock intellectually and ethically. The music he composed for her matched his loss when he thought she was gone. He had never shared the full work with anyone. John had only heard bits and pieces of it, but Sherlock doubted that John ever really listened to music. It was too personal for Sherlock to share with anyone, but right now in the dark of the sitting room, he wanted to share the music with Molly Hooper.

He wanted Molly to hear it, to feel the same longing the music portrayed. He wanted this shy fragile woman lying on his couch to feel the emotion in the music he was unable to exhibit himself. The two women were diametrically opposites, one possessive and manipulative, the other giving and caring, but the melody reminded Sherlock of both. He turned away from her and closed his eyes, allowing the music to wash over both of them.

When he finished, he looked over at her. Her eyes were open and shining brightly in the light from the street lamps. Unshed tears. Sherlock closed his eyes, he couldn't think while looking at her when she looked that way. He started playing other music, a selection of Barber and Lizt. Softly and slowly. After an hour of playing, there was the final pull of the bow over the strings. A long low note that carried on after he had removed the bow from the instrument. Sherlock opened his eyes and saw Molly had fallen asleep. Her face was soft and serine, calm. The bruises where hidden by the pillow, but her tiny frame was huddled on the couch.

Sherlock set the violin down then walked over to her. He looked down at the sleeping woman. John's voice in his head. " _Anything else you want to torture her with."_ He would never want to hurt something so fragile looking as Molly.

She looked so uncomfortable on the small couch. Sherlock scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. He gently laid her down, and covered her body with the duvet. Stroking her soft brown hair, the strange sensation came back to him. Was this fear or doubt or something totally new, he was unsure? He couldn't deduce himself.

He was overly protective of her in the taxi. He never behaved like that. What was he doing? Sherlock looked down at her again. He gently moved the strands of her hair back off her face. He bent over and lightly kissed her temple. John's voice flooded his mind again, _'Not now, Sherlock!'_ Holmes stood and went out to the sitting room. He stretched out best he could on the green couch and tried to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments Welcome


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not have a beta so forgive any mistakes you find. I can only read this over and over again so many times before my eyes cross.

Possession

Chapter Six

Molly was stretched out on Sherlock's bed, so deep in sleep she did not know where she was. She was hugging Sherlock's pillow. His scent filling her. Lulling her into her dreams.

_She was walking through the door into the laboratory and there was Sherlock, head down over the microscope. His dark suit and purple shirt intensifying his pale features. As she walked up his eyes flash way from the oculars and on to her. Those bright silvery blue orbs._

_"Good, Molly."_

_"I brought you your coffee" she said offering him the cup._

_"Black, two sugars," he said standing and walking towards her, taking the cup._

_"Of course" she smiled nervously at him. He took a long sip looking at her._

_"But I need something else." His eyes were focused on her, bright and predatory. She looks around trying to avoid their gaze._

_"Ah . . . what?_

_"This." He took her hand and pulled her into a kiss. Soft at first, delicate. Molly slipped her arms around his shoulders, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He enclosed her in his embrace. Molly closed her eyes as he increased the intensity of the kiss. Pulling gently on her lower lip with his, encouraging her to open to his requesting tongue._

_She sighed and relaxed in his arms. Opening her mouth, she felt his tongue tentatively enter. Gently he explored. Then with a deeper more violent motion, his tongue started to assault her mouth. She struggled for her breath, trying desperately to push away. They broke the kiss and Molly leaned back in his arms._

_Instead of bright silvery blue eyes, there were the deep dark brown eyes of 'Jim from IT'. She fought to free herself from his embrace. He just laughed at her as she raised her fists and hit his chest._

_"Let me go! Let me go!" she called out. She pushed away and fell backwards out of his arms and into the vapor hood. Molly's heart was pounding, she was panting trying to catch her breath._

_"Mols" he drew out the vowels in her name. She looked up and James Moriarty was standing in front of her. He was clean shaven and wearing the dark suit that John had described in his blog. His eyes were even darker, more reptilian. His smile frightening. "Mols . . ." He was holding a knife between them._

_She ran away from him down the empty halls of St Bart's. Moriarty close behind her laughing. She ran into the morgue. A single light is on. It was right over the occupied stainless steel autopsy table, the body laid on it covered by a blue sheet. The rest of the room was cast in shadows and darkness. Molly ran behind the table, putting the dead person between herself and the mad man._

_He leaned over the body wildly swinging the knife at her. She ducked trying to avoid the blade. He laughed again and stands up straight. With a broad smile he grabbed the sheet and whisked in off the body. The pale naked body of Sherlock lays on the table. Before Molly could do anything, Moriarty plunged the knife deep into Sherlock's chest. She screamed._

Sherlock was immediately awake with the first shouts he heard. On his feet and at the door in a few strides. John was barreling down from the top of the stairs, pistol in his hand. Sherlock crashed through the door of his bedroom.

Molly thrashing on his bed. Her arms wildly trying to fight off her nightmare. John followed Sherlock into the room, as both men stared at the frantic woman. Suddenly, she started screaming Sherlock's name. He rushed to her, trying to put his arms around her without being hit.

"Molly, I'm here, I'm here." he said firmly to her. She slowed her thrashing and starts to whimper in his arms. Her body went slack and she slipped back into a deep sleep.

"Sherlock?" John whispered from the door.

"It's under control John." Sherlock's deep voice was calm as he gently rocked the sleeping woman. John shrugged his shoulders, going back up stairs to his old bedroom.

Sherlock sat in the dark listening to Molly's breathing. She stayed limp in his arms. Slowly he eased her back down on the mattress. He started to pull his arm out from underneath her when she reach up and unconsciously wrapped her arms around his chest.

He slowly laid down next to her. She laid her head on his chest. Her breathing deepened and slowed. Sherlock slowly started to stroke her hair. He noticed his own pulse slowed as he fingers lightly tangled in her hair. His body started to relax and sleep found both of them quickly.

*****

Sherlock woke early, before Molly did. He watched her while she was slept. He never noticed how beautiful she was. How delicate her features were. The gentle slope of her neck, the curve of her jaw line, smoothness of her skin. The pale skin now marred by ugly dark blue bruises.

He wanted to stay next to her in bed, just watching her, studying her small movements as she slept. But then he heard John again in his head. _‘Not now Sherlock, don’t torture her.’_ Sherlock knew how nervous he made Molly. The intelligent morgue tech who had impressed him with her knowledge of anatomy and chemistry. She humbled the medical students who came into her morgue but couldn’t put two sentences together in front of him. _‘Stupid’_ he thought. If she woke up and found him there all recuperative rest she earned in the night would be lost.

He slowly slid out of the bed and softly closed the door behind him as he left. He was standing in the kitchen staring at his last experiment when John walked into the kitchen. His hair was a mess and dark circles under his eyes. John nodded at Sherlock as he walked across the room to the electric kettle. Sherlock noticed the limp and the palsy in John’s left hand.

“Coffee?” John asked.

“Yes. Black, two sugars.” Sherlock walked around the flat. “John can we give her something to help her sleep? Stop the dreaming?”

John leaned back on the counter, rubbing his face with both hands. “No, not when she’s on pain killers at the same time. Too many depressants. Besides it won’t help the problem in the long run.”

“What do you mean?”

“More than anything she is suffering from traumatic shock. Molly is going to have to get therapy after all this is over. Until then she will have many sleepless nights.”

“Are you sure?”

John cocked his head to the side and stared at the detective.

“Yes, yes, forgot. How is your PTSD this morning?”

“Okay until she started screaming. Almost shot my coat on the back of the door thinking it was an insurgent.” John turned to make coffee for the two men.

“A good murder will straighten you right up,” Sherlock offered.

“We already have a murder to solve, remember,” John said as he handed a mug of coffee to the other man. “Besides, were you sleeping out here last night?” Sherlock turned his back to John before he answered. “Yes, she looked so uncomfortable on the couch, so I moved her after she fell asleep.”

“She’s going to be upset when she wakes up to find herself in your room.”

“Mmmm,” Sherlock agreed from the window.

“At least she didn’t find you asleep in there with her.”

Sherlock smirked “Yes, that would have been awkward.”

“Sherlock?” John voice became demanding. “You didn’t stay in there after she calmed down did you? Sherlock?!

“Oh look, Lestrade just pulled up.”

Down in the street, below the tall thin windows of 221 B, a black sedan pulled up. Greg Lestrade climbed wearily out of the driver’s seat and knocked on the black varnished door of flats. John poured a third cup of coffee as he heard the Inspector’s feet on the stairs.

Before reaching the top tread, Lestrade shouted out, “Holmes!” John shushed him as he handed Greg the coffee.

“Molly’s still asleep, rough night.”

“It may get rougher if we can’t find this bastard.” He walked into the sitting room to find Sherlock in his customary chair. His long legs stretched out in front of him, his fingers formed a triangle under his chin. With his brows knitted together, it was obvious he was in his thinking pose.

“Anything new?” Sherlock asked.

“You tell me,” Lestrade said. “Who is this ginger enemy of yours?”

“I don’t have a ginger enemy.” Sherlock quibbled back.

“I don’t know.” John said. “You’ve got every other color, shape and size of person wanting you dead, why not an average ginger?”

Sherlock glared at John who just smirked at the detective.

“Not helping.”

“What about Jim Browner?”

“The sailor who murdered his wife and her lover, then cut off their ears to mail to his in-laws? Still in prison.”

“What about that bloke Openshaw?” John offers.

“You mean Elias Openshaw? He didn’t have red hair, he imported oranges. Fled to Atlanta in the States. Murdered last year.”

“Then you help us, who do you know, who knows Molly and wants you to know she’s his?” Lestrade snaps.

“Maybe it’s not my connection to her but her connection to me.” Sherlock said, cocking his head to the side.

“What?”

“Where was that idiot, meat daggers, during all of this?”

“Meat daggers?” Lestrade asks.

“Tom somebody, the guy Molly was engaged to. She dumped him after the wedding.” John explained.

“Tom Birch. I met him. He doesn’t seem the type.”

“Molly broke up with him after Sherlock returned. Maybe he blames Sherlock?” John continued.

“We all blame Sherlock for a lot of things.” Lestrade stares at the seated man.

“I told you I don’t have a ginger villain in my past.”

“But you have one in your present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim Browner is from the Adventure of the Cardboard Box and Elias Openshaw is from the Adventure of the Five Pips.


	7. Chapter Seven

Possession

Chapter Seven

It was late in the morning, the sun was high in the sky, warming the city. Molly sat on the edge of the couch staring off into space. She had woken in Sherlock’s bed that morning. It was wonderful being surrounded by the man’s scent. Her head buried in his pillow and her body enveloped in his Egyptian cotton sheets. They were so soft and warm. It would have been perfect, except the reason she was in that bed came rushing back to her.

Her body hurt from the bruises all over her. The cuts on her back burned and itched terribly today. She gently reached up and felt the side of her face. It was swollen and sore. She did want to see what she looked like but she couldn’t help herself. She sat up and looked in the mirror that was over the Sherlock’s bureau. The right side of her face was blue black and her eye was almost swollen shut.

She couldn’t remember how she ended up in Sherlock’s bed, but she didn’t seemed very concerned about it. Molly didn’t want to dwell on it. She just wanted to relish the fact she was here. She stayed in the bed dosing until John woke her around nine.

The morning was spent with Lestrade and Donovan both interviewing her again. John glared at Donovan when she walked through the door of the small flat. He had not forgiven her for her part in smearing Sherlock’s name. Phillip Anderson, the forensic scientist had been relieved of duty, pending an investigation, but Donovan seemed to have skated through without any consequences. It tore at John, he wanted her to be disgraced as she had disgraced both Lestrade and Sherlock.

Now, late morning, Molly sat on the couch wonder what was going to happen next. Should she get up and fix something to eat or was John back cooking for Sherlock now that he had moved in. Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table using his microscope and John was puttering around with the kettle.

The bell rang at the street door once. The sound spooked Molly and she tensed at it. Then it rang again without stopping. Someone was pushing hard on the button, apparently adamant about being let in. Both John and Sherlock walked into the sitting room listening to the door being answered by Mrs. Hudson and the exchange with the arrival.

“Where is she?”

“Who dear?”

“Molly! Is she up there with that bastard?” Heavy steps ran up the wooden stairs to the flat and Tom Birch burst into the room. “Molly, oh my God, what did he do to you?”

Tom rushed over to Molly and quickly sat down beside her, pulling her close to him.

“Oh . .  ah . . . Tom, what are you doing here?” she asked trying to pull back away from him. Sherlock glared at the man as John stepped closer to the couch.

“That idiot of a police man came over to the office to interview me. Interview me! In front of my boss! I’m mean really, what the hell was he thinking. As if I would ever hurt you. He told me you were attack. That your friend Muriel was murdered. Oh, my darling, why didn’t you call me?”

Sherlock felt flushed when he heard the term of endearment. John sat down on the opposite side of Molly and place a hand on her shoulder. The woman quickly glanced at John then back to Tom.

“I’m okay, John and Sherlock have been taking care of me. I just didn’t think you want to know.”

“Not want to know . . . Molly you are so special to me. Why would I not want to know? I just want you to come back to me. Please. Let me take care of you.”

The man tried to pull Molly closer but she refused. Instead he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled it into his lap. Sherlock watched silently from the middle of the room. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. ‘ _Molly doesn’t want to be sitting that close to the man. She’s uncomfortable by his presence. He is too aggressive in his attention. Guilt? No, something else, possessiveness. He wants to be possessive of her, but she is already mine.’_ Sherlock was quickly pulled from his musings with that last conclusion. ‘ _Mine where did that come from? I don’t want Molly Hooper. I’m married to my work!’_ Sherlock turned away from the three people on the couch and sat in his chair, hands steepled under his chin.

John looked up at his friend, hoping for some assistance with the ex-boyfriend; but when he saw Sherlock turn away, he knew he was on his own. He turned back and gently squeezed Molly’s shoulder.

“Tom, Molly has been through a lot in the past thirty-six hours. Let’s not upset her by making unwanted demands on her.”

“Unwanted! She wanted me before that git showed up.” Tom nodded his head towards Sherlock, not letting go of Molly’s hand. “Who can compete with hero worship?”

Molly pulled her hand back hard and moved closer to John. “I told you, he had nothing to do with our break up. Quit blaming him because I decide I didn’t want to marry you.”

Sherlock closed his eyes as he listened.

“Oh course he was the cause. We were happy before he returned. We had a future. It was going to great. Then he returned and you get all confused. And now he’s gotten you attacked!”

“What? What are you saying? How did Sherlock cause this? You are delusional.” Molly started to shake and her voice broke.

“That female detective told me what was written on the wall.”

John growled. Donovan had release information about the case just to harm Sherlock again.

“I know he is to blame.” Tom continued, “See what I did because of Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock straightened in his seat as he listened to Tom misquote the message, but still relayed the intent. Molly turned and looked at the detective, tears forming in her eyes.

“Sherlock?” she asked.

The detective did not move. Tom gained a smug look on his face and John was fuming.

“Molly,” John started. “Just because . . .”

“Tom recited it wrong. It was ‘See what you made me do Sherlock’. But yes, that is what your attacker was doing when he came back in to the room after murdering Muriel.” Sherlock turned and looked at Tom. The detective was planning a murder of his own now. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to worry. But if it is Moriarty, the message would be expected.”

“Oh my God, Sherlock. Is he going to come after me again?” Molly asked. John wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“No Molly,” John said.

“Molly I will never let that man hurt you again.” Sherlock said his eyes fixed on the young woman. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“Well you didn’t do a very good job this time,” Tom snapped at him. Sherlock wondered how much troubled he would get into for throwing the imbecile out the window and onto Mrs. Hudson’s bins.

“Tom I think you should leave.” John said in his strong soldier’s voice. The man turned to look at John.

“What? Why?”

“Yes, Tom . . . please go. Thank you for your concern . . . but as you see . . . I’m being taken care of here.” Molly’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her eyes locked on Sherlock’s. A quick fleeting smile dashed across Sherlock’s lips. Standing with an exaggerated grandeur, Sherlock turned on the young man.

“So nice of you to visit but time to go.” He grabbed Tom’s arm and pulled him off the couch. None to gently, he shoved the man toward the door and guided him down the steps. Tom shouting the whole way.

“Molly you’ll regret this, I am so much better for you than this psychopath!”

“Sociopath,” Sherlock said and he pushed him out the door of the building. He clapped his hands clean of the young man as he locked the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment welcome


	8. Chapter Eight

Possession

Chapter Eight

For three days a new routine set in at 221B. Every night, Molly fell asleep on the couch while Sherlock played his violin. Then he would carry her to his bed. He would gently lay her down and stay with her. As soon as she started whimpering and thrashing from her nightmares, he would hold her in his arms. She would call out his name in fear as he rocked her slowly. Then she would wrap her arms around his body and not let go for hours.

He would wake first to be sure to leave the bed before she awoke. Molly was unaware of the night time ritual. She thought she fell asleep on the couch and one of the two men carried her to the bed to sleep alone.

The other routine was after Molly’s shower, John would softly knock on the door, and then she would let him into the bathroom. From his chair, Sherlock watched the door open and saw her tiny frame wrapped in a towel. A small smile on her face. Then John would close the door and Sherlock’s mind would wonder what was happening in the small room.

He thought of her naked body glistening from the water. The same body, his hand moved over as she fought off night terrors. Sherlock’s logical mind knew John was treating her injuries, but at some previously unknown part of his psyche, thought of John standing so close to her in the small room. Her skin smoother under John’s hands. Only a wet towel between his friend and Molly’s naked body. Sherlock hated those ten minutes every night. Those ten minutes when John and Molly were alone in the bathroom.

Other things had changed. John was more than adamant about Sherlock getting dressed every day. He wouldn’t let Sherlock walk around in a bed sheet in the morning anymore. After Sherlock had spent a day and a half in the same pajama, John shouted at him to put on his suit. Sherlock dressed in an oxford shirts and trousers but remained bare foot as he walked around the flat thinking. Molly sat in John’s chair watching as Sherlock paced as he considered the collection of information he had pinned to the wall above the couch.

He had made five different mosaics of photos and newspaper clippings, all five mosaics were connected to a map of London with strings. Sherlock would stand on the couch studying the wall trying to find Moriarty. There were pictures of different people Molly had never seen before, and buildings she wasn’t familiar with. There were news clippings of burglaries and debutants, of conferences and murders. None of it made any sense. Sherlock would stare at it then pace again, and finally shout at the wall.

Finally, John threw Sherlock out of the flat and told him to go get Molly’s mail. John tossing Molly’s flat keys to Sherlock before she could object. Sherlock rushed down the stairs, happy to finally have something new to occupy his mind.

Sherlock unlocked the door to Molly’s small flat. The front room was bright and simple. The floral couch pushed up to one wall opposite a television. A low wooden coffee table in front of it. Stains on the surface showed Molly ate many meals here in front of her telly. The kitchen was also small. A single dish, cup and glass stacked in the drying rack. Molly ate alone often, Sherlock thought. On the kitchen table was a pile of mail. Sherlock flipped through it. Ad verts for medical and forensic conferences, a brochure for a woman’s crisis center, coupons for a new restaurant. Nothing personal. Sherlock looked up and quickly around the flat. No family photos. Just a few vacation pic’s of Molly and less than three years old.

He looked in the kitchen bin. Empty. Landlord disposed of it when they brought the mail in he thought. Sherlock walked back to Molly’s bedroom. Again a simple room. Pale pink sheets on a brass bed. Flowered wall paper on only two walls. A small vanity with a large oval mirror over it. The room smelled of soap and vanilla. Sherlock picked up a bottle of perfume. Shalimar. Expensive. Molly didn’t impress him that she would have bought it herself. Maybe a gift, unusual, personal. Tom Birch. He set the bottle down hard.

His mobile rang in his pocket. Text message received. He pulled it out and read the message.

‘Grab mail and leave. Don’t look around per Molly.” JW (22-2-14) 1045

Sherlock smiled. He turned to leave when he saw a leather bound journal on Molly’s night stand. Instinctively, he went and picked it up. He thumbed through it and realized it was Molly’s diary. He stopped and looked up. It hit him how little he knew about Molly, his Molly. It never thought of her as lonely but everything about this apartment was shouting alone. He didn’t think of her being so desperate for attention she would latch on to a possessive git like Tom Birch, but she had. No he thought, he would decipher Molly by his own methods. He laid the book down on the night stand.

Grabbing his mobile, he texted John back.

‘Ask if she wants any books to read?” SH (22-2-13) 1053

*****

Lestrade was waiting for Holmes when he returned. “I brought a copy of the CCTV at ST Bart’s. We have a pic of him coming and going,” Lestrade explained. “But we can’t see his face. He’s wearing ball cap.”

Sherlock took the disc from Lestrade and placed it in the reader of John’s laptop. The computer started to whirl as it cued the video. It was the entrance of the delivery bays at the building. The security guard sat in his small booth dosing as a person carrying a clip board walked passed him.

“Never looked up, the idiot.” Lestrade said looking at the guard.

“Clever,” said Sherlock. “Look his head is down like he’s reading. Acts like he know where he’s going, acting as if he belongs there, so everyone believes he belongs there. Clever indeed.” Sherlock sat down in front of computer.

Sherlock watched the man walk through the door into the building. The time stamp was one hour before Molly and Muriel were attacked. The next clip was the internal of the hospital. The suspect walked contently down the hall and through a set of double doors. The next clip was twenty-five minutes after the attack. It was same hall way. The same man was walking away from the CCTV camera. His pace slightly faster than when he walked in. Sherlock studied the man as he walked away. Then computer screen went dark.

“What?” Sherlock leaned back, “Where in the footage of him leaving the building?”

“There is none.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He is isn’t captured on any of the cameras leaving by any of the exits. He either crawled out of a window or he is still in building.”

Sherlock tapped his index fingers to his chin. “He knew exactly where he was going in the building. He‘s been there before. He planned this out carefully. It wasn’t a sudden attack. He knew to arrive early because he knew Molly was coming in early. He was calm as he walked in. Calculating.”

“Still sounds like Moriarty,” Lestrade said as he sat down.

“No, the stride is different.” Sherlock noted. “Moriarty strides are shorter smoother, whereas this monster strides are longer, lose jointed.” Sherlock hit the replay command.

“Okay, what else?” Lestrade took his note book out of his pocket.

“He’s done manual labor, probably construction. He is fit, strong. He is left handed and . . .” Sherlock stopped as he saw Molly and John step into the bathroom together. John was laughing as he closed the door. Sherlock heard the water start running in the small room.

“And what?” Lestrade asked jarring Sherlock back in to the room. Sherlock stood and waved his hands around as he paced.

“There are too many inconstancies. He attacked Molly. Beat her and cut her, but it wasn’t until Muriel walked in that he lost his control, and murdered. Then when that was done he gained his composure and returned to write the message to me.” Sherlock stopped and looked at the bathroom door as he heard the water stop. “The attack on Molly was a personal message but the attack on Muriel was even more personal, directed towards her. He had to stand close to her, she didn’t fight him. Cutting a throat is a mess business, but he isn’t covered in blood. Why would she let him get that close to her after what he did to Molly? Why? Why?”

The bathroom door opened and Molly and John stepped out. She had a broad smile on her face. She turned and reached up to give John a kiss on his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her.

“Has . . . ah. . . Molly seen the tapes?” Sherlock asked.

“No I didn’t know if it would be a good thing just yet.”

“Ask her.” Sherlock said as John and Molly joined them in the sitting room.

“Good news,” John announced “Molly’s back is healing quickly. There shouldn’t be much scarring. Whatever there is can be lasered off. Next summer she’ll have a bikini body.” Molly blushed.

“Thanks to Dr. Watson’s care.” She said as she smiled up at John. Greg stood and gave Molly a hug.

“Great news, your bruises are fading and your back will be okay. You can go back to your flat then.”

Sherlock’s heart sank. He stopped pacing and quickly turned to the three. “NO, I mean it’s not safe yet.”

“Sherlock?” John pleaded.

“We don’t know who Ginger is yet.”

Molly looked back and forth between the three men. She finally broke the silence. “Then let’s find him.”

“We have CCTV of him at Bart’s,” Greg explained “Do you thing you can look at it?” She walked over to the lap top. Sherlock held out the chair for her as she sat down.

“It will be okay.” Sherlock says as he gently rested his hand on her shoulder.

Molly sat silently watching the three clips of Ginger. John and Greg watched the screen as Sherlock watched Molly’s shoulders. He waited for the slightest movement as acknowledgement to the man on the video. There is none.

“Is that all?” she asked.

“Yea.” Greg answers, “Do you recognize him?”

“He looks like what I remember. I just don’t know now.”

“What do you mean?” Greg asks.

“I thought it was supposed to be Moriarty. It doesn’t look anything like him.”

John and Greg both look at Sherlock, who is still studying her shoulders. “I agree Molly.”

“Then who is it?”

“We don’t know, but I will find him. I promise.”

Molly smiled nervously up at Sherlock as his bright blue green eyes look down at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers for domestic and child abuse

Possession

Chapter Nine

It was the day of Muriel's memorial service. John and Sherlock, both in suits, were standing in the sitting room waiting for Molly. John was adjusting his tie for the third time studying the man behind him in the mirror. Sherlock was not looking at John but had his entire attention on the bedroom door that Molly was behind.

"Sherlock, she has to go home sooner or later." John said speaking at the mirror over the fireplace. Sherlock looked up at his friend and considered what to say so as not to give himself away.

"I believe it would be more effective for the investigation to keep her here than let her return to her flat. We can maintain a more constant observation on her."

"Constant observation? You mean keep an eye on her, or keep her prisoner?" John turned to face his friend. "You haven't found any trace of Moriarty anywhere, have you?"

"No, it isn't like him. He escalates, not retreat. I don't understand his game yet."

"What if it's not him?" John raised an eyebrow as Sherlock turned and looked hard at him.

The bedroom door opened and Molly stepped down the small hall way. Her face was still bruised but the marks were fading from blue black to yellow green, the swelling had gone down. She wore simple black slacks and a white blouse, yellow daisy encircled the collar.

Sherlock turned to study her. She looked so small and frighten, ever bone in his body wanted to steal her away and hide her from the world. Keep her safe and protected, only for him. He quickly shook his head. He could not understand where these ideas of possessiveness were coming from.

"Molly you don't have to go," John said softly. Sherlock's head turned quickly to see his friend had the same concern look on his face that Sherlock felt.

"No, really I need to be there for Muriel. I'm okay with this. And I've already packed my bag."

Sherlock looked behind her and saw the small overnight case Lestrade had brought several days ago. She was leaving Sherlock, she was going back to her flat. No he had to stop this.

"Molly we agreed you needed to stay here."

"No Sherlock, you decided I should stay here. John, Greg and I agreed it was safe for me to go home." She said trying and failing to sound strong. "Besides, you yourself, said there is no sign of Moriarty. He has disappeared and will stay gone until he decides to attack again. I can't stay here waiting for that."

_'Why not'_ Sherlock thought. No, this is not what he wanted. "Molly please reconsider. It may not be safe. We have not found Ginger yet. We don't know what his orders are."

"Sherlock, we need to go. Muriel's family and friends are waiting." Molly said trying to smile at the detective.

*****

John and Sherlock sat on either side of Molly at the memorial service as other staff members of St Bartholomew crowded the pews of the small church. Mike Stanford gave the eulogy, while Molly cried softly through the service. At one point she grabbed Sherlock's hand. He looked down at their clasped hands and gave a gentle squeeze. Molly's red eyes darted up to look into his, then quickly turned away. She tried to pull her hand back, but he refused to let go of her.

He looked over at his friend, John. The soldier sat military straight, listing to Psalms reading. Sherlock could see the twitch in John's lips. He was having a difficult time with the memorial service. Then it dawned on Sherlock. The last memorial service John had been at was for Sherlock. His stomach lurched and he squeezed Molly's hand tighter. A small gasp escaped her, as they turned to quickly glance at each other, then turn back to the service.

When the service ended, several member of St. Bart's came over and consoled Molly. She stood between the two men, John's arm around her shoulder and Sherlock holding her hand. People were hugging her and telling her how glad they were to see her up and around. Sherlock wonder if any of them ever gave poor Molly a noticed before the attack. The insincerity was nauseating to him. Many who came up to her were more interested in Sherlock and John; asking if they were involved in the investigation. Both men refused to comment, leaving the inquisitors dumbfounded. Molly graciously thanked them for being there and wiped more tears from her face.

Finally Sherlock had had enough. He slipped his arm around Molly's waist, she seemed so weak and small next to him.

"Let's go," he said softly over her head so both she and John could hear. She started to lean into him when a very young woman came up to her.

"Molly?" the girl couldn't have been more than seventeen.

"Rebecca, oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry." Molly pulled herself from Sherlock's arms and move to embrace the young woman. "I should have called. Are you okay? Where are you staying?"

"Grams has taken me in. It's okay. I know you were hurt too."

Molly pulled back. "Sherlock, John, this is Rebecca McDaniel, she was Muriel's daughter." The two men reached out to shake the woman's hand. "Rebecca, did he come?"

"Yes, he sat up front the bastard."

"Rebecca,"

"No, after what he did. How dare he come here today." Molly reached out and hugged the teenager again.

"I'll be at my flat tonight if you want to talk. Call me. Okay?" Molly said holding tightly on to her.

The woman nodded and kissed Molly's face. Rebecca turned and joined a crowd of young people who enveloped her in hugs and walked in mass out of the church.

"Who were you talking about?" John asked as they followed the crowd out of the building.

"Muriel's husband, well ex-husband. They were getting a divorce but he was horrible to her. Ah . . . abusive. I had been trying to convince her for over a year to leave him. You couldn't believe how many times she came to work with bruises."

Sherlock held the door to taxi for Molly as she stepped inside the car. John followed and then Sherlock.

"Well did the divorce stop the abuse?"

Molly shifted uncomfortable on the back seat. "Well, no. He got worse. We were making arrangements for her."

Sherlock's mind slipped back to Molly's flat, her mail. The brochure for the woman's shelter. "Molly were you trying to hide her and her daughter at a shelter?"

Molly looked up at Sherlock. "How did you know?"

"Doesn't matter. What was the final straw? What convinced her to leave him?"

Molly swallowed hard. "He has this ring. It's for fights. There is a barb on it that you can lift up and it will cut into someone if you hit them. He liked to drink and get into fights at the pub." Molly looked down at her hands and clinched them into fists. "I told Muriel I wouldn't tell anyone about this."

"It's important Molly."

"He got angry at Rebecca one night. She came in late from a date. He knocked her down and use the ring to carve his initials in her forearm. Said it proved she was his property. No one would take her or Muriel away from him."

"Oh shite," John gasped. He thought of his own daughter. He couldn't imagine wanting to harm his child like that. What kind of monster would do that to their own child, their daughter? His face flushed and his temper roared.

Sherlock looked around quickly. "Does Muriel's husband know where you live?"

"I don't think so."

"Still too much of a danger. Driver, take us to 221 Baker Street instead. Now." Sherlock pulled out his phone and started texting Lestrade.


	10. Chapter Ten

Possession

Chapter Ten

Lestrade paced around the sitting room of 221B. Sherlock sat in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin, Molly sitting silently on the couch. John was in the kitchen talking on the burner phone Mary had bought, trying to convince her it was safe to come home.

“It couldn’t be Muriel’s husband. He had an alibi and beside, the message on the wall.” Lestrade said.

“Look into his alibi closely, you’ll see it will collapse.” Sherlock turned and stared into the cold fireplace. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Who? Me?” Lestrade asked.

“No me. It’s so clear now, so obvious. It was McDaniel, had to be.” He stood as Lestrade sat in John’s chair. John came from the kitchen and went to sit next to Molly. Sherlock’s eyes following his friend. “McDaniel considered Muriel and Rebecca property. Not something he was willing to lose. How does he keep her from leaving, from losing her? Attack the one who is taking her away, Molly.”

Sherlock looked up as John slipped his arm around Molly’s shoulders. He tightens his jaw for a brief moment then continues.

“Molly was trying to help Muriel leave, taking away McDaniel’s possession. Molly is attacked. ‘She’s mine’, not Sherlock, Molly is mine, no it’s Molly, Muriel is mine.”

“But why didn’t Molly recognize McDaniel.” John asked.

“I never met him.” She answers. Molly looks up into Sherlock’s face. “Why did he kill her if he wanted to keep her?”

“She walked in on the assault. She was not supposed to be there. She came in earlier than her shift. Muriel knew who it was, he had no chose, better to kill her than let her tell the police and lose both her and Rebecca. The abuser would rather kill their victims than lose them. That is why the attack on Molly was controlled but the attack on Muriel was frantic and brutal. More personal, because he had a personal relationship with her.”

“But the message on the wall?” Lestrade asked. “Why write the message to you?”

“Remember, I said he was clever. He wanted to direct the investigation away from himself and direct it elsewhere. What better place than to me with numerous enemies? Muriel probably told him about me being there often, about Molly helping me. When a woman is murdered the police always start with the husband, but that one message made everyone look into my past and not Muriel’s.”

Sherlock flopped down into his chair.

“So it’s over?” Molly asked.

“It will be over as soon as we have McDaniel in custody. He disappeared after the funeral.” Greg said standing and pulling out his mobile. He started texting as he walked to the door. “Good news Molly, you can go home now. We know who to look for. You don’t need to worry about Moriarty anymore.”

Sherlock looked over at her, his smile gone. “Just one more night here Molly. Then tomorrow you can go home.”

*****

Sherlock played his violin long into the night. He pulled the bow across the strings pulling out the sorrowful music from the instrument. It filled the rooms of flat and played at the edges of Sherlock’s mind. It was not a set score, just random that notes that came from the violin as Sherlock played. He thought of the first night he played for Molly as she sat in the dark listening to him. How her light frame relaxed and fell asleep lulled softly by the music. He thought about every night he had lain next to her, chasing her nightmares way.

He turned and looked at his couch. It was empty. Tonight, Molly had agreed to just go and lay down on his bed. Not the routine of falling asleep here and waking there. It had only been a little over a week, Molly living at 221 and sleeping in Sherlock’s bed. Just over a week that he had slept beside the woman. Sherlock knew that after just a week he didn’t want to sleep alone anymore.

He set his violin down on the table and paced around the room. Lestrade had not called. Sherlock didn’t know if McDaniel had been arrested yet or not. He thought about going out and contacting his homeless network to help find the monster. He wondered if he found McDaniel first if he would hold him for Lestrade or take care of the man himself. Yes he wanted McDaniel to suffer for what he had done, for what he had done to Molly. Sherlock’s mind rushed back to the woman sleeping in his bed.

He could no longer wait, he could no longer deny himself his new addiction. He softly walked down the hall to his bedroom. Slowly, he opened the door and stepped across the threshold. Sleeping quietly was Molly, her hair fanned out across the pillow, her small hands were folded up under her chin.

Sherlock quietly closed the door and slipped his dressing gown off. He slowly climbed into the bed beside her, letting the warmth of her slip around him. As soon as he laid his head on the pillow, Molly shifted her body, resting her head on his chest, her arms folding around him. He gently wrapped his arms around her body and let Morpheus pull him down.

*****

Molly woke up to one of her favorite dreams. It was the dream of being in Sherlock’s arms. His body close to hers, his lips resting on her forehead. Molly loved this dream.

There was a sudden and loud thump. Molly jumped at the sound.

“Bloody hell,” John’s muffled voice carried into the bedroom.

“What was that?” Molly asked out loud,

“John fell out of bed. He does that occasionally when stress causes nightmares.” Sherlock said sleepily.

Molly tensed. She rapidly realized this wasn’t a dream, it was real. She was nestled in Sherlock’s arms! In his bed! Sherlock could feel her muscle tighten as she woke further.

“Don’t panic Molly,” he said as he moved to look down at her. His voice deep and reverberating inside her. His eyes opened as Molly became aware of his hands on her body. One was wrapped around her back, while the other was resting on the exposed skin of her upper thigh.

She saw his silvery blue eyes shift from hers eyes to her lips. Slowly, he leaned in and softly kissed her. He pulled back slightly to look into her wide eyes again, then leaned in for another kiss. Molly’s mind was screaming at her, but her body was responding to him. A moan escaped Molly’s throat as her body relaxed into his embrace. The moan lit a fire in Sherlock. Electricity skimmed across his skin. He kiss her for a third time, but deeper and firmer. Sherlock rolled them over, placing her on her back and trapping her body with his. He watched her eyes flutter shut as he kissed her face, moving down her jaw to her long creamy neck. Molly moaned again, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him tighter into her.

“Sherlock, damn it where are you?” John shouted from somewhere in the flat.

Sherlock stopped and pulled himself up. He looked into Molly’s chocolate brown eyes. Silently, she was pleading with him.

“Sherlock?” John’s harsh whisper was in the kitchen.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed the tip of Molly’s nose. He untangled himself from her limbs and slid out of the bed. Allowing himself one last gaze at Molly before he left. Quietly, closing the door as he went into the kitchen.

John was pacing up and down the small room. “Damn it Sherlock, I knew you were up to something,” John whispered angrily at his friend.

“Oh shut up. I’m not up to anything.” He whispered back, waving his hand dismissively at John.

“Aren’t you?” John pointing his finger at the other man. “You must know how she feels about you. You can’t just ignore that any attention you give her is just leading her on.”

“I’m not leading any one on.” Sherlock argued.

“Oh, really! You can’t expect me to believe you are now thinking of Molly’s feelings. You never had before. You never think of other people feelings, you said so yourself.”

“John stop it.”

“Did you even think what this means to her. Not only her feelings but her safety. We just went through hell thinking Moriarty attacked her and tried to mutilate her. You know he is coming back. You know he’s coming after you. He will use everyone around you to hurt you. He did before, he’ll do it again. Do you want her in harm’s way again?”

“I can protect her.”

“How can you? You couldn’t even protect her from a wife beater. How in hell are you going to protect her against Moriarty? Remember how bad you botched it the last time you tried to protect your friends?”

Sherlock glared at John, knitting his brow together.

“What should I do?”

“Do what you must. Do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Keep away from her.”

Sherlock stretch his long legs out in front of himself. His index finger rested on his chin. His brow knitted, his eyes darken. He hated it but John was right. John needed to be the voice of reason in Sherlock’s head again.

Molly remained silent in Sherlock’s bed. She heard the two men arguing but was unable to understand what they were saying. She waited, hoping to hear Sherlock’s bare feet walking back down the hall, she never heard them. She knew in her heart she would never hear them. Molly rolled over hugging Sherlock’s pillow as she started to cry.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Possession

Chapter Eleven

The sun was barely lightening the sky as Molly got dressed. She changed into the clothes she had worn to the memorial service, carefully folding her sleep shirt and placing it in her suitcase. She slowly lowered the lid and zipped the case closed, trying to be as quiet as she could. She didn’t hear anyone else moving in the flat, but she still wanted to leave before a scene was made.

She moved silently down the hall to kitchen door. He spoke as she placed her hand on the door knob.

“Molly, where are you going?”

Sherlock sat in the dark in his chair. His long legs stretched out in front of him, his face stern and set. She let go of the door knob and stood back. Refusing to look at him, she spoke to the door.

“Leaving. Going home.”

“You should stay here.” His voice deep, filling the small rooms.

“Why?”

He twitched slightly at the question. “What do you mean why? I thought we were in agreement. You needed to stay here until McDaniel is found and in custody.”

“Sherlock, I don’t need to be here. I don’t want to be here. I’m going home.”

Sherlock’s chest hurt as he listened. ‘ _She didn’t want to be here.’_ Last night they had kissed. It felt to him that she wanted to be here. That she wanted to be here with him.

“Molly, what are you talking about? You should stay here with me.”

Molly turned quickly and glared at him. “Stay here with you? Why? That’s not what you do is it? No Sherlock, you manipulate people, you play with them. You’ve played with my feelings for the last time. How dare you do what you did.”

He knitted his brow trying to understand her.

“You came in there and crawled into bed with me. You played with my affections for you. Why, to try some cruel experiment. Let’s see how far Mousy Molly will go before she runs away? Well now you know. I’m running away.” She turned back and went to open the door.

“Molly, no that’s not why I was in there,” he said as he leaped from the chair. He crossed to her. “I want you to stay please.”

“No Sherlock, and don’t ask anything else of me again.” She turned briefly and looked at him. “You know Tom was right. He was so much better for me.” She left.

*****

The flat was unnaturally quiet when John came down the stairs two hours later. He stepped into the sitting room to see Sherlock standing at the window in his pj’s, staring out at the street below. John looked around room and noticed the door open to Sherlock’s bedroom.

“Where’s Molly?”

“Gone?”

“What? Gone where?” He gasped.

“She left early this morning. She said she doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be with me.”

John stopped dead in his tracks. There was a quality to Sherlock’s voice he had not heard before. A sadness almost resignation he had never known. “Sherlock? Are you okay?”

Sherlock turned and passed John. He walked into his bedroom and closed the door. John watched his friend disappear. He knew this was going to bad.

Two hours later, Sherlock had dressed, stripped the sheets off his bed and removed the towels Molly had been using in the bathroom. Now he paced around the flat collecting anything that reminded him of Molly. He found a book she was reading and a mug she always drank from. He placed them both on the kitchen table along with her slippers.

“You may take those to Molly today.” He said as he passed John in the sitting room. He picked up his violin and drew the bow across the strings twice, then suddenly thrust the instrument down hard on the table. John thought he had broken it. “I can’t even play my violin now because of her!”

“What? What are you talking about?” John asked rushing into the room.

“Molly’s ruined everything. I can’t stay here now, because everywhere I look I remember her there. I can’t sleep in my own bed, it smells like her. My music, I can’t, I just can’t!”

“Sherlock, what is the matter with you?”

John’s mobile rang and he answered it. “It’s Greg, I need you and Sherlock down here at the Yard, bring Molly.”

“She’s not here. She left and went home.”

There was a pause on the line. “Did he finally drive her away?”

“I don’t know. Why do you need us?” John asked.

“We still haven’t found McDaniel and I want Sherlock to review the evidence.”

“Okay we’re on our way.” John disconnected the call and looked up at his friend. “Lestrade wants us down at the Yard. Are you ready?”

Sherlock didn’t answer but pulled on his coat and marched down the steps.

*****

“Well you were right, I sent Donovan over to the cafe that gave us McDaniel’s alibi. She scared the shite out of the owner, he gave up McDaniel pretty fast after she threatened to arrest him as an accessary. Turns out he was McDaniel’s cousin.” Lestrade said as the two men sat down in his office. “I also sent a WPC over to Molly’s flat. I’ll have someone with her till we catch this bastard.”

John nodded. “Good to hear that. So McDaniel is definitely our man?”

“Probably,” Lestrade handed a photo of the man to John. “He’s a ginger, like Molly said, and he is an out of work construction worker, like Sherlock said.” Sherlock didn’t acknowledge the comment. “We just can’t seem to locate him. He hasn’t been back to his flat since the funeral. We still don’t know how he got out of the building, but the security guards all have a photo of him now. They will be on the lookout for him. That guard on the loading docks has been fired.”

Sherlock looked up at Lestrade and leaned forward. “Say that again.”

“What, the guard’s been fired?”

“No about getting out.”

“We don’t know how he got out of the building the first time.”

Sherlock stood up and started walking around the room. “He found a way out of St. Bart’s that didn’t have a guard or CCTV on it. If he found a way out, he’s found a way in. It won’t matter if the guards have his photo, there will be no one there to see him.”

“You think he’ll go after Molly again?” John asked pulling his mobile from his pocket. He quickly scrolled through his contacts to find her number.

“Molly’s with a WPC. She’s safe.” Lestrade said.

“Check.” Sherlock ordered. Lestrade picked up his desk phone and called dispatch. John lowered his phone and turned to Sherlock.

“She’s not answering her phone.” John said.

“Shite,” Lestrade shouted. “Molly had already left for work by the time the WPC arrived and Rebecca McDaniel and her grandmother have gone to Bart’s to clean out Muriel’s things.”

“They’re both there, now!? He’ll be there too!” Sherlock said as he rushed out of the room.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John gets BAMF in this chapter. Next chapter will be smut.

Possession

Chapter Twelve

Molly was sitting at the counter in the morgue. Her office had been repainted and the furniture had been replaced but she still couldn’t bring herself to step foot in the room. She sat on the tall stool at the stainless steel counter, paper work spread out in front of her. She was checking chain of custody’s with inventories on cases while she had been away, when she heard the double doors of the morgue open and close. Turning, Molly looked up to see Rebecca McDaniel standing there, staring at her holding a cardboard box.

“Rebecca, hello, what are you doing here?”

“Grams in HR signing some papers. I came down here to clean out Mum’s locker.”

“Oh God, no one did that for you? I’m, sorry. Let me help.” Molly slipped off the stool and led Rebecca down out of the morgue. As Molly stepped out of the room she ran into a WPC.

“Oh Molly, this is PC Roberts. She’s supposed to stay with me until my dad in caught.” Rebecca explained.

“Okay, good.” Molly stepped around the woman and led Rebecca down the hall to the private locker room. “Do you have your Mum’s key?”

Rebecca pulled the key out of her pocket, handing it over to Molly. She unlocked the door and pulled it open. On the back of the door were numerous photos of Rebecca and Muriel. Molly swallowed back a cry when she saw them. Rebecca reached up and pulled one down and handed it to Molly.

“I would like you to have this one,” she said. It was a photo of Molly, Muriel and Rebecca at a carnival they had been to. It was two years ago and Rebecca looked so young. It was a summer day, but Muriel was wearing long sleeves. It was the day Molly discovered Muriel was being abused at home. “She said it was one of the most important days of her life. The day you told her she was valuable and shouldn’t put up with him anymore. You convinced her. You gave her the strength.” A tear slowly trailed down Rebecca’s face.

“Rebecca, you are valuable too. Don’t let anyone tell you or treat you otherwise.”

Rebecca cocked her head to the side and stared at Molly. “Have you been hurt by someone? Did someone do to you what Dad did to Mum?”

“No.” Molly said looking down at the ground. “He didn’t hit me or anything like that.”

“What did he do?”

“He played with my feelings for him.”

“Did he promise to marry you and then drop you?” An image of Tom flashed through Molly’s mind. She shook her head no.

“Did he tell you, you didn’t matter, promise you things he had no plans on doing?”

Molly sat down on the bench and looked around the room for a moment. “No, he didn’t do that. I guess you could say he didn’t do anything to me. He never promised me anything, never offered me anything. I just fell in love with him and he didn’t see me.”

“How could he not see you?”

“I guess I was wrong about that too. He said something to me once, something very sweet, but I was so use to him dismissing me I may have not understood. He said that someone thought I didn’t matter to him but that I was the one person who mattered the most.” Molly’s voice broke. A tear ran down her face as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I guess I believed what everyone was saying, that he is heartless and without emotions. I guess I wasn’t seeing him either. But he really could care for someone, he really could care for me. He promised to look after me and keep me safe.”

Rebecca looked confused. Sitting down next to Molly, she reached over and took the woman’s hand.

“Molly, I don’t understand. He doesn’t sound like a monster, he sounds pretty great. I think he does see you and he does care about you. Why would you walk away from him? He’s not some kind of nutter is he?”

Molly gave a crying laugh, “Actually, he says he’s a sociopath.”

“Okay, so maybe he isn’t the guy for you.”

“Oh but he is, he really is!” Molly stood and went to start pulling things out of the open locker. “Let’s get this job done so I can call him and tell him.” Rebecca returned Molly’s smile and the two women started packing the box.

*****

Lestrade turned his car down Giltspur Street and parked in front of the pathology building. Sherlock and John leaped from the car as soon as it stopped.

“Donovan is on her way. Security has been alerted.” Lestrade said following the two men into the building. “Dispatch can’t reach WPC Roberts.”

“If they’re in the basement of Pathology, you won’t be able to reach her. The reception is bad down there.” John explained as they dashed towards the morgue.

*****

PC Roberts stood outside the locker room to give the two women some privacy. It was a boring assignment to watch over a teenager and she tried to remember who she had pissed off to be assigned this duty. She looked up when the double doors at the end of the long hall way opened and a man dressed in hospital scrubs walked down the hall towards her. He was reading a clip board and his head was down, but his gait was sure and fast if not a little loose jointed.

As he passed her, reaching for the door knob of the locker room she turned slightly to look into his face. Suddenly, his eye’s narrowed and teeth bared. He slammed the clip board into the side of her head and knocked her down. She fell to her hands and knees, trying to balance herself as she reached for her radio. He kicked her in the stomach and flipped her body over. The next three kicks were to her head. She was unconscious and bleeding.

Molly and Rebecca heard the crash outside the room and went to the door. Molly saw McDaniel in the scrubs and slammed the door closed, locking it.

*****

Sherlock, John and Lestrade crashed through the doors and into the morgue. Looking around the men found the room empty.

“Go check the laboratories, I’ll check the locker room.” Sherlock shouted as he rushed from the room. Lestrade and John glanced at each other, then separated in the hall.

Sherlock and John turned down the halls and around the corners till they reached the double doors leading to the hall outside the locker room. They could hear a man shouting and a loud banging. Pushing open the double doors, they saw McDaniel pounding on the locker room door. A knife in his hand.

“Open this door bitch! Open it now!”

Sherlock and John stepped quickly towards the killer.

“McDaniel!” John shouted. The man turned around.

“Who the fuck are you?!What the hell do you want?!”

“Get away from that door!” Sherlock shouted.

“Or what?!”

John stepped closer to him, as the man held the knife out menacingly at the two men.

“Do you plan are cutting us? Were men you know, not defenseless women.” John glared at the man, his voice dropping lower.

“Oh fuck off, this is none of your business!”

John’s right hand caught McDaniel’s wrist, slapping in out of the way. John’s left hand closed around the man’s throat as he pushed him back hard into the wall. Twisting his right hand, John snapped the bones in McDaniel’s wrist, making him drop the knife. Then John kicked McDaniel’s feet out from under him.

“We know you only go after women who can’t fight protect themselves, you couldn’t handle a fight with anyone who would fight back.” John’s fist crashed into the man’s face, the sound of breaking bone was satisfying.

Sherlock rushed to the door and started knocking on it.

“Molly! Molly, it’s me, Sherlock! Open the door, it’s safe!”

Molly unlocked the door and pulled it open, Sherlock rushed into the room and pulled her into his arms.

“Are you alright?! Did he hurt you?! Please tell me!”

“I’m fine! We’re find!” She leaned into the tall man’s arms and buried her face into his chest. “You came for me!”

“Of course, I will always be here for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure how to end this, I hope you aren't disappointed in me.

Possession

Chapter Thirteen

John looked up at Sherlock as the detective sat quietly in his chair. The brunet’s fingers tapped lightly on the arm of the chair as he stared off into the distance. Sherlock had said nothing after they left Molly and Lestrade at St Bart’s. Molly and Rebecca sat in the locker room with orange wool blankets as crime scene techs worked around them, photographing and collecting evidence. Molly’s big brown eyes looked up at Sherlock, then turned away as soon as Lestrade asked her yet another question. He wanted to stay, he wanted to stay beside her, but Sherlock had been ordered out of the room. Being dismissed by the DI and told to come in tomorrow to give their statement.

As soon as they were in the taxi, John called Mary to tell her it was over. That the monster who had hurt Molly was caught and she and Sherry could come home. John now wondered if he called them too soon. If maybe he should stay at 221 and keep an eye on his friend. Sherlock’s silence was troubling. It was unnatural for him to be so quiet at the end of a case. The normal manic behavior was missing.

Sherlock sat and wondered through his mind palace. The small room that Molly had once occupied was now a whole floor. She was his voice of logic, her calm quiet demeanor, the stillness in Sherlock’s storm. Why had he let her take up so much of his energy? He opened the door to the room he had set aside for the memories of the last week and half. The sound of her humming as she fixed her tea, the smell of her hair after her showers, the feel of her skin as he laid beside her at night. They were all in there. All those memories. He wondered if he could lock the door and just remain closed up inside that very special room with them.

“I should be going now, right?” John said trying to gain Sherlock’s attention. The man did not move in his chair. “Sherlock, I’ll be leave now. Are you okay?”

“SHERLOCK!”

His cheek twitched and his eyes blinked. Turning he saw John standing in front of him. “John, oh, yes. You were saying?”

“I’m leaving now. Mary and the baby will be home tonight and I need go and do the shopping.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes, are you going to be alright? Do you need me to stay?”

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “Of course not, why would I? Go.” He returned to his palace unaware of John’s departure.

The morning light turned to afternoon, turned to dark night when he emerged from his mind. The room was dark and the only light was coming up the stairs from the ground floor. The flat was uncomfortable quiet. He shuddered slightly, disapproving of the stillness. Then he heard it. The single step on the tread. The weight shifting on the stairs. Someone was walking up to his flat. He sat, listening, trying to discern who it was. They were slight, so not John or Lestrade. Flat shoes, not heals. Not Mrs. Hudson. His eyes caught the shadow on the far wall, a slight frame with long hair. His heart started to beat rapid as she turned the corner and took the last few stairs up to his door.

“Sherlock?” Molly’s voice soft in the dark. She reached for the light switch and turned it on. The room illuminated with the soft yellow light of several lamps. “Sherlock, what are you doing, sitting in the dark like this?”

He didn’t answer her.

“I thought you would come by my flat afterwards. I’m sorry you left Bart’s. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize.”

“About?”

She stepped into the flat and pulled her hands behind her back. Looking down at her feet she tried to summons the courage to speak. “I was talking to Rebecca and I realized some things.”

He remained silent, it was unnerving to her.

“I realized I said some very mean things, I was kinda thoughtless.”

“Molly that is one adjective I do not believe anyone would ever use to describe you. Thoughtless.”

She looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. “I said you manipulate people, you play with them, but you weren’t were you? You weren’t playing with me. You really meant what you said.”

“If you mean, did I really mean I wanted you to stay here, then yes that is what I meant.”

She smiled and stepped closer to him. “You said you wanted me here with you.” Another step. “You said, I mattered to you.” Another step. “That I was the one that mattered the most.” She was standing in front of him. He looked up and into her eyes. They were big and dark, the iris overwhelmed by the black pupils. He lifted his hand and she took it. Gently, he pulled her down to straddle his lap, her knees trapping his thighs.

“I also said that the one thing I need most in this world was you. That you always counted.” He whispered up to her as she stared down at him. A smile playing at his lips. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, as his hands eased to the small of her back. “Yes Molly, I want you here, with me. I was not playing with your affections, I was succumbing to my own.”

She heart quickened as she leaned down to kiss him. Softly, gently. As she slowly pulled back, he chased after her warmth.

“Sherlock, why do we keep making these mistakes? These miscommunications?”

“I blame you, if you would just . . .” Before he could say more she kissed him again, deeper and more assertive. Opening her mouth to let his tongue cross in and taste her. Her own gently stroking and lapping at him.

“Shut up you idiot.” She whispered pulling back. He smiled broadly, a slight laughter to his voice.

“That’s what John says all the time.” He reached down and let his hands cup the globes of her behind as he stood. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist. “Would you like to take this elsewhere? Discuss this further under more comfortable arrangements?”

“I’m done talking, Sherlock. I want you and now I know really want me.”

He kissed her again before she finished the thought and started carrying her to the bedroom. Gently laying her down on the bed, Sherlock kissed Molly’s neck, lapping at her pulse point and then down to the hollow of her neck. His finger unbuttoning her blouse, his lips caressing the newly exposed skin. When he came to the white cotton bra, he cupped it in his mouth, allowing his warm breath to penetrate the fabric, causing the woman to moan shamelessly.

“Oh Sherlock, yes.”

He could feel his own excitement growing as his cock twitched in his trousers. He sat up and helped her to rise off the bed, easing the blouse off her shoulders, his lips kissing as the fabric slid down her skin. He helped her out of her bra, tossing the clothes off the bed. Looking down at her, Sherlock took in a quick breath.

“Beautiful, you are so beautiful.” He whispered. The hushed voice brought goose bumps to Molly’s arms.

He leaned back down and kissed her deeply, bringing moans and gasps from her body. “Oh please Sherlock, yes.” Pulling himself away, he stood beside the bed and slowly undressed, never taking his eyes away from hers. She watched licking her lips as piece by piece, his clothes were removed and fell silently to the floor. When he was completely naked he paused for a moment for her eyes to rake over his pale lean body. Muscles under unblemished skin twitched and flexed and he moved to stretch over her. He unbuttoned her slacks and gently pulled her clothes down her legs, including her pants. When he stopped and looked down at her, she unconsciously twisted to cover herself and blushed.

“No, no don’t ever hide yourself from me. You are beautiful.” He leaned down and kissed her abdomen. Her fingers slipping into his hair and tangled in the lush curls. Sherlock let his lips and fingertips map out Molly’s skin, her areas of arousal and her ticklish areas. He lapped at her inner thigh and bit softly behind her knee. It seemed he spent hours examining every inch of her, till she was panting and needy beyond tolerance.

“Please Sherlock, make love to me. Please, I need you.” She gasped as he smiled into the skin of her abdomen. He pulled himself up on all fours and caged her beneath him, smiling like a lion ready to pounce.

“I want you to ride me. I want to watch you come undone above me.”

She groaned and shook her head quickly. Sherlock reached over and pulled a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. He laid down beside her and slipped the latex on his hard member. Hissing at the touch to the forgotten cock. Molly lifted herself up and went to straddle Sherlock’s body. As she settled her knees on either side of his hips, Sherlock suddenly pulled her forward. His mouth sealing over her clit. He wrapped his arms around her waist trapping her there. She was unable to move away from or escape his ministrations. His tongue lapping gently, then his mouth sucking tightly to her. She collapsed forward over his head moaning wantonly.

“Sherlock, Sherlock, oh God, I . . . Oh please!”

He lapped at her, running his tongue in a circle around her clit, teasing and brushing it before pressing firmly against it. Two fingers slipped inside her and started twisting back and forth. She came shouting, her fingers crawling at the sheets.

“Now you are ready for me.” He whispered softly, pushing her slowing back down his body, till she lined up with his member. It slipping in slowly. Sherlock tipped his head back, stretching his neck as his body felt the warmth and tightness of Molly’s. “Oh, fuck Molly. You are perfect.”

She rocked her hips slowly, establishing a pace that was torturous pleasure. Enough to send sparks of electricity through his body but not enough to push him to completion. He rode the edge, his mind blanking everything other than the woman on top of him. The feel of her skin, the sound of her moans, the smell of her body. He was slipping into euphoria and losing himself to her. It was heaven.

Sherlock lifted his hand and gave Molly leverage to brace against as she picked up the pace. Moving faster and pushing him closer to the edge. Her own breath becoming short and shallow. Finally Sherlock’s composure broke. He grabbed her hip and spun them so he was on top looking down at her. He quicken the pace, driving into her harder. His groans filling the small bedroom. Molly lifted her hands and braced them on the headboard pushing back down into Sherlock.

“Yes, yes more! Oh please don’t stop.”

Sherlock could feel his muscles tighten and his bollocks pull. He reached between them and only stroked her clit twice before Molly came shouting his name, closing tightly down around him.

Together, they came. Melting their bodies into one. The only sound left was their heavy breathing and panting. Sherlock carefully, moved to the side and pulled ever so slowly from her. Laying down beside Molly, he let his fingers slide across the sweat clinging to her breast.

“You know it will be dangerous to be with me.” He whispered.

“I know and I don’t care.”

“But I do care.”

“Sherlock, I know you. I know you will keep me safe and the safest place I know is right beside you.” She smiled up at him. He pulled her close to him, nuzzling her throat.

“Heaven help you Molly Hooper, but you are mine and I won’t let anyone change that.”


End file.
